
RSIFIED ADVENTURES 

of the PITS 

v. ( : *a. 






9B 




Class. 


T^^/y^ 


Book._ 




\ / r~~ 


Gojpghtlf 



CQEHRIGHT DEPQSm 



VERSIFIED 
ADVENTURES 
of the V. C. A. 




The Author and Publisher 
cooling of at the Spring 
after a drill 



VERSIFIED ADVENTURES 

of the 

v. Q v*- 



By 
EARL H. EMMONS 

(Sixth Battery, Veteran Corps of Artillery, S.N.Y.) 




Published by 

Ralph S. Dunne 

ii East 36th Street 

New York 



^ 
# <<«>* 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

The Author and Publisher 
wish to express their apprecia- 
tion to Richard T. Stevens and 
Francis G. Lloyd for the valuable 
assistance rendered in making 
possible the publication of this 
book and to E. I. Haines who 
furnished the photographs shown 
herewith. 



Copyright 1917, by Earl H. Emmons 



/ 



Printed by 

The Cheltenham Press 

New York 



NOV -5 1917 
©C1.A477418 



DEDI CATION 

To the men of the Veteran 
Corps of Artillery, State of New- 
York, who dropped their work 
in a moment to answer the call 
to duty; to those who came 
afterward and to those willing to 
go, but unable to do so, this 
little book is dedicated to serve 
as a cheerful memento and sou- 
venir of the days we spent and 
the friends we made guarding 
the aqueduct. 




First Camp at 
Peek skill 



FOREWORD 

Shortly after noon on August 7th, 191 7, orders 
were received at the Headquarters of the Veteran Corps 
of Artillery requiring that a Provisional Battalion of 
200 men and officers report at 8 A.M., August 8th, to 
Colonel John B. Rose of the First Provisional Regiment, 
New York Guard, for duty guarding the Catskill 
Aqueduct through which the City of Greater New York 
receives its supply of water. Immediately the order 
was sent out to the men of the Corps requiring them 
to assemble in the armory on the evening of the 7th, 
and by 10 o'clock a Provisional Battalion was organ- 
ized, by selection, from the several batteries of the 
Corps and was waiting further orders. 

Due to various conditions actual marching orders 
were not received for jtwo days, when the Battalion 
entrained for the camp at Peekskill. After an inspec- 
tion of the 700 troops of various commands reporting 
at Peekskill, the Battalion of the Corps had the honor 
to be assigned to the work of guarding the most 
important, vital portion of the Aqueduct; that imme- 
diately north of the city limits. 

After one night at Peekskill the camp was broken 
and the men distributed throughout the Sector assigned, 
taking over the active guard work at noon August 
nth. That this succession of movements was attended 
by many unusual incidents and happenings was 
anticipated, but each new difficulty and condition was 
met and mastered promptly in accordance with the 
best tradition of the Corps, each man endeavoring to 
minimize all difficulties and be of as great personal 
assistance to his officers and comrades as possible. 

On account of the large number of men in the 
Battalion with important civic responsibilities it was 
necessary that the original personal be relieved from 



time to time by other members of the Corps, and, as 
a result, the service of the Aqueduct was performed 
by a large number of the enlisted and commissioned 
personnel, the changes being effected smoothly and the 
work being kept up to the highest standard. Each 
man performing this service is to be congratulated 
on the opportunity of thus doing his "bit," and be 
satisfied in the knowledge that the standard of efficiency 
set by the Provisional Battalion of the Veteran Corps 
is now the aim of all other detachments comprising 
the First Provisional Regiment, New York Guard, 
and that this service is fully appreciated by the Regi- 
mental Commander, and all others concerned in the 
proper carrying out of this important duty. Particu- 
larly will the untiring zeal of each officer and man 
remain a most pleasing and happy remembrance to 
the one who had the honor to command the Provisional 
Battalion of the Corps in this emergency. 

£/ Major, 

Commanding Provisional Battalion, V. C. A. 
1st Battalion, 1st Provisional Regiment, N. Y. G. 



10 



WHY IT WAS DONE 

In wishing a publication onto the patient public 
it is quite the thing to start off with a sort of apology 
for doing it. 

"Versified Adventures of the V. C. A.," (together 
with some rimes not directly connected with the 
activities of the Corps, but having the military motif) 
was issued for reasons — which makes it at once unique 
from the average book of verse. 

One of these reasons, outside of the usual "to 
fill a long felt want, " was that the author had so much 
fun writing the material that he decided to pass it 
along down to posterity, (at a nominal sum per pass.) 

Secondly, it was imperative that someone do 
something of this kind in order to correct certain ideas 
which have broken loose and are running around 
reckless among the general public. There are people, 
who get their ideas of army life from watching holiday 
parades, who think soldiers do nothing for a living 
except "dress up, drill, drink and act dreadful," and 
this opinion is somewhat erroneous. Then there are 
others, who believe the chief duties of a soldier are 
starving, freezing, being tortured and shot, and these 
folks, also, should be set right. 

As a matter of fact, there is, in army life, as in 
other occupations a happy medium wherein men work, 
play and conduct themselves about the same as if 
they were in their business offices, clubs or a friend's 
drawing room, with the exception that in the service 
their work is more concerted and efficient, their play 
more vigorous and courtesies are more rigedly observed, 
all of which makes for decidedly better men. 

As regards the actual labors performed by the 
Veteran Corps that will be recalled without much 



ii 



effort every time the men look at the callouses on their 
hands; so this book, while keeping in mind the serious- 
ness of military life, deals with all aspects and events 
in a lighter manner for the sole purpose of producing 
two smiles perhaps, where before there was but one. 

The Author. 



12 




Informal Guard Mount 
at Kensico Dam 



THE MINUTE MEN OF TODAY 

They mustered at eight in the morning, 
The men of the Veteran Corps, 

And upheld the fame 

Of their ancestors' name, 

The brave Minute Men of yore. 

The doctor relinquished his practice; 

The lawyer stopped short on his case ; 
The scribe dropped his pen; 
The stage gave its men; 

The artist stepped up into place. 

The preacher came down from his pulpit; 

The broker came forth from his bank ; 
While each craft and mart, 
Gave a generous part 

Of its best to the file and the rank. 

And so they went into the service; 

The men of the V. C. of A., 
Upholding the Corps 
As their sires did before — 

They're the Minute Men of Today! 



13 



ATTENTION, MEN! 

When I was young and read that verse 

About the Light Brigade, 
I thought them rather stupid 

As regards the charge they made. 

For though their leaders blundered, 
No one faltered or showed fear, 

But followed faithfully to death; 
And that, to me, seemed queer. 

But that was when I was a "cit" 

And long before the day 
I entered my enlistment 

With the men of V. C. A. 

And I am just a rookie 

But I know a thing or two; 

I know we'd heed our leaders, 

Right or wrong, and see it thru. 

For there's something in their makeup, 
From the Colonel down the line — 

Majors, Captains and Lieutenants, 

And it says they're square and fine. 

And if we get in a mixup 

Then, I know the blood will tell 
And we'll follow without question 

To the gates and plumb thru hell! 



14 



THE CALL OF THE GUARD 

You must wake and call me early 
Call me early, Corporal dear, 

For I go on Post Eleven, Corp, 
Till daylight doth appear. 

Round that blasted syphon hoose-gow 
Twenty-seven miles I'll tread, 

While my brave and faithful comrades 
Slumber peacefully in bed. 

Six full hours, I'll be on duty 

Till I'm dizzy in the feet, 
Then if I am lucky, maybe 

I will get a bite to eat. 

So remember, call me early 

Kick my ribs till I awake, 
Send me to that wind-swept hill-top 

There to shiver, cuss and shake. 

Ah, it's great to be a sentry 
With the powers of a king, 

But with all my watchful waiting 
I'll not see a blasted thing. 



IS 



GENERAL ORDERS 

Go take thy post and everything in view 

And mark thou dost not stub thy clumsy toe, 

But walk twelve hours, if need be, like John Drew 
And note each moving leaf and cock-roach crow. 

Repeat each word thy brother sentry speaks 
E'en tho he says the sergeant is a bum 

And if relief come not for seven weeks, 

Thou must not leave till thy relief hast come. 

Take not an order from a living man 

Except some scores of non-coms and C. O's. 

But guard thy talk as does the cautious clam 
And sound alarm each time a fire-fly glows. 

Allow no one within thy range of sight 
To spit or otherwise offend thy beat; 

And call the corporal each hour of night 

For his remarks to thee will be so sweet. 

Allow not even Time or Tide pass thee 

Without authority, for that's thy rule. 

If thou dost all of this then thou wilt be 

A sentry, and what's more, a blasted fool. 



16 




Getting down to real work 

in breaking ground 

for the incinerator 



THE YARN OF THE FANCY SWELL 

(With no apologies to the author of The Yarn of the Nancy Bell) 

'Twas on the Catskills aqueduct 

At Outpost Number Four 
I came upon a raving man, 

A Veteran of the Corps. 

His eyes were wild; his hair was long; 

While much begrimed was he, 
And as I paused, he ported arms 

And spoke this wise to me. 

"Oh I am a cook and a sentry, too, 
And my hours are long and hard; 

I'm orderly, mess-boy and police 
And Corporal of the guard." 

"Oh sir," said I, "Tho I'm not versed 

In ways and means of war, 
I cannot see how you can be 

All this you say you are." 

He fixed me with his piercing eye 

Till I began to pale, 
Then on his gun he leaned and spun 

This sad and painful tale: 

" 'Twas on the eighth of August, son, 

We left Manhattan Isle; 
Within my heart there was a song, 

Upon my lips a smile. 

"For I was of that gallant band 

With patriotic pluck 
That volunteered for duty, son, 

Upon the aqueduct. 
"I left arrayed in height of style 

As leader of my squad, 
But what I've been since then is known 

To only me and God. 



17 



it 



At home I was a moneyed swell 

And I had hopes to be 
A Captain soon, but Oh, Ye Gods! 

What they have done to me. 
"I've walked a post twelve hours a day 

With nine-pound Springfield Crag 
And eight more of that twenty-four, 

I scoured pots with a rag. 

"I've swung a scythe and posted guard, 
Dug drains and helped the cooks 

And done a hundred dirty jobs 
Not shown in army books. 

"I've been the Captain's chambermaid 

And sewed mosquito nets; 
I've gathered tons of burned match ends 

And worn-out cigarettes. 
"And when at last I fell in fits 

They bundled me away 
To Outpost Four and here I sit 

And rave the livelong day: 

"Oh I am a cook and a sentry, too 
And my hours are long and hard; 

I'm orderly, mess-boy and police 
And Corporal of the guard. " 




18 



THE DRILL MASTER 

Said the sergeant to the rookies: 

"Form accordin' to yer height; 
Fall in there; dress up you loafers; 

Forward, Ho; oblique to right; 
Keep yer heads up; can that chatter; 

To the rear, Ho; right about; 
Eyes to front; throw back them shoulders; 

Halt, right dress; chins in, chests out." 

Said the sergeant to the rookies: 

'Tension men; left face; at ease; 
Right by squads and hold that pivot; 

Left by file; come on you cheese; 
What's the matter, are you crippled? 

Halt; I think you're in a trance; 
Face about and keep them heels down, 

This ain't no darn bailey dance." 

Said the sergeant to the rookies: 

"Left oblique in double time; 
Halt; you bloomin', blasted boneheads 

Say, your drillin' is a crime. 
Cover off; keep yer alignment; 

'What the divil's ailin' you?'" 
Then up spoke a sweating private 

And he said, 'Be gob, I'm thru!' 

Said the private to the sergeant: 

"Sure it's not the pep I lack, 
But as soon as we start someplace 

Right away you call us back. 
You're the most uncertain person 

That in all me life I knew 
And I quit till you've decided 

Wha't'ell you want to do. " 



19 



THE M I D N I GHT ATT A C K 

The night was black as a ten foot stack 

Of cats of the darkest hue; 
The sentry stood in a Stygian wood 

At Outpost Number Two. 

A sound quite near struck on his ear! 

He turned in quick alarm 
And "Halt, who's there?" rang on the air 

As the sentry ported arm. 

Then as a breeze blew thru the trees 
The guard's brave spirit sunk; 

As to his nose the odor rose 
Of essence a la skunk. 

He took a chance and called "Advance 
Sir Skunk, you're recognized;" 

The puzzled cat stopped short at that 
And showed he was surprised. 

Then on he went and the night was rent 
With smells and howls of grief; 

Till hellity bent from his khaki tent 
Came the Corporal with relief. 

Now a sentry grieves in a suit of leaves 
And swears till the air is blue; 

While beneath the sod where the daisies nod 
Lie his clothes at Outpost Two. 



20 




A typical outpost along 
the aqueduct 



A SHATTERED PROVERB 

The evening mess was over and the sergeant of the 

guards 
Strolled to our tent suggesting that we have a game oi 

cards. 

'Twas Pitch, without a limit, but the bets were rather 

tame 
Until I caught that fatal hand and tried to wreck the 

game. 

I held the ace, queen, jack and deuce so bid it up to 

four 
And shed some inward tears because I couldn't make 

it more. 

I staked my roll, just seven bones, my watch and ring 

and hat 
And knew the sergeant must be bluffing me when he 

stood pat. 

I led the high boy; caught the six; my queen brought 

in Big Dick; 
That gave me two; the deuce would make it three; 

I led it quick. 

Ah, friends, if you have tears prepare to shed them 

now — Alack, 
The sergeant played the four; and then — he led the 

king right back. 

He caught my last lone trump, the Jack — I lost my 

roll and ring; 
My watch went too, also my hat; I'd clear forgot the 

king. 

Yes, war is just as Sherman said — I'm up against it 

strong; 
And yet — ye gods — and yet they say: "The king 

can do no wrong I" 



21 



THE DEEP VOICED SNORE OF 
THE VETERAN CORPS 

Once I was fond of the tones of Farrar, 

Melba, McCormack and Gluck; 
Which was before I encamped with the Corps 

Out on New York's aqueduct. 

Now every evening my musical ear, 

Cocked in expectant delight, 
Lists to the snore of the Veteran Corps 

Warbling so sweet thru the night. 

Jonesy snores tenor and coughs on the side, 

Smith lets off deep-throated bass, 
Brown stands alone with a rich baritone 

That seems to envelop all space. 
All of the others join in the refrain, 

Whistle and mumble and moan, 
Filling the air with harmonics more rare 

Than even a sick graphophone. 

Thus does my soul, twixt the darkness and dawn, 

Filled to the brim with pure bliss, 
List to the snore of the Veteran Corps — 

Opera was never like this. 




22 



THE RETORT DISCOURTEOUS 

'Twas Sunday on the acqueduct 

And elsewhere, too, I guess 
And all the boys were resting 

After wrestling with the mess; 
And Private Schmidt was drinking stuff 

That had a deep white foam, 
And eating cheese and pretzels which 

The folks had sent from home. 

Then in walked Private Flannigan 

The joker of the corps, 
And half a minute later he 

And Schmidt were on the floor; 
And, Oh, it was a scrap that pleased 

The eye and cheered the heart, 
Until the sergeant heard the noise 

And pried the pair apart. 

"And what t'ell" the sergeant says, 

"Has happened here?" says he, 
Then up spoke tearful Private Schmidt: 

"This mick insulted me." 
"And tell me," says the sergeant, 

As he lit a cigarette, 
"The nature of this brazen breach 

Of army etiquette." 

"I'm sitting with a little box 

Of lunch upon my knees," 
Says Private Schmidt, "and just had eat 

A slice of Limburg cheese; 
Then comes this loafer Flannigan 

And turns away his head, 
And says 'My God, breathes there the man 

With soul that is so dead!' " 



23 



THE LESSON 

Now William Brown was square as any chap you'd 
ever meet; 

He never gambled, swore or hit the booze, 
But Bill was rough and ready and he hated to look neat 

And things conventional gave him the blues. 

He thought that shaving daily was an awful waste 
of time; 
He dressed worse than a comic paper jay, 
The way he scattered things around the house was 
near a crime 
And then, somehow, he joined the V. C. A. 

He nearly broke the sergeant's heart each time we 
had a drill; 
Then came the call to duty, and I vow 
The first few days of army discipline near killed poor 
Bill, 
But say, you ought to see our William now. 

Just yesterday upon a busy uptown street we met 
And Bill looked like a major spic-and-span, 

And for an hour I watched him tote a half-smoked 
cigarette, 
Because he couldn't find a rubbish can. 



24 





It's called "police detail," but 
should be "white wings ." 



A VITAL ISSUE 

It was night at Sector Four 

When above the muffled snore, 
Came the sound of two deep voices in dissent, 

And the quarrel waxed so hot 

That each man stole from his cot, 
And we crept in silence from our canvas tent. 

Then beyond the camp fire glare 

We discerned two privates there, 
Who at home were well-known brokers on "the street"; 

And we knew without a doubt 

Some great point would be brought out, 
By such brainy men embroiled in such a heat. 

Then above the row we heard 

One familiar ugly word, 
And we saw those cultured members of our corps, 

Fly into each other's face 

And begin to fill the place, 
With assorted curses, hide and hair and gore. 

We descended then and there 

On that fierce and hostile pair, 
And we pried them loose and asked why this should be; 

Then said each "He told a lie; 

He has been declaring I 
Didn't wash the Captain's sox as well as he." 



25 



LOVE'S LABOR LOST 

Up at Kensico a rookie got a furlough for a day 

And he caught the train to Gotham to parade along 

Broadway; 
Now the town was full of captains from a recent 

Plattsburg class 
And the rook saluted faithfully each one he chanced 

to pass 
For his sergeant was particular to pound this lesson in; 
That he must salute all officers to show his discipline. 
So the rook was doing noble, tho his arm was somewhat 

taxed 
Till he came to Thirty-fourth street when he stopped 

dead in his tracks, 
For a figure so resplendent came before his startled 

gaze, 
That his eyes stuck out like onions and he stood in 

great amaze. 
Then this kingly one came near him and his heart 

turned cold as ice 
But he knew he must do something so the rook saluted 

twice; 
Then he swore and hit a bull dog and he kicked a 

rubbish can, 
For he found that he'd saluted Macy's elevator man. 




26 



EVERYBODY'S DOING IT 

The whole darn world it seems is going nutty 
About this war that's on across the sea, 

And everyone has turned his reg'lar business 
Into a war supplying factory. 

There's bakers making biscuits for bombardment, 
The Subway men are making submarines; 

There's rifles made from gaspipe by the plumbers 
And Heinz is shipping over navy beans. 

The boiler shops are casting guns and cannon, 
The carpenters are building ships and boats; 

With farmers making swords from scythes and sickles, 
And tailors making army pants and coats. 

The blacksmiths all are busy moulding bullets; 

The milliners are making haversacks, 
While chemists use their spare time making bomblets 

And foundries turn out cannon balls in stacks. 

Most everyone is in the game with something, 
And so the bug has fastened onto me; 

And though I don't make guns or ammunition 
I get mine with this sort of poetree. 



27 



THE SOLDIERS' FAREWELL 

'Twas meal time in the mess shack 
And the boys were gathered there, 

Partaking of the pork and beans 
And other army fare. 

In walked the stern Top Sergeant 

And he leaned upon a shelf, 
And said, "Let's have a drill boys;" 

Said we, "Go chase yourself. " 

This angered the Top Sergeant 

And his face grew cold and dark, 

Said he, "You'll all get details now 
For that last rude remark. " 

And then up spoke the privates 
With a wild and careless yell; 

"We're all on leave, so take your danged 
Details and go to hell!" 



28 




A line the enemy can 

never break through 

— mess parade 



GUARD A LA VETERAN CORPS 

I have seen some funny outfits, 

In my time but I must say, 
That the prize, without a question, 

I would give the V. C. A. 
Queerest darn conglomeration 

Ever gathered in one mob, 
And you always know who's working 

When you hear them on the job. 

When it's "Halt! Hands up you coyote, 

'Fore I drill you full of lead!" 
In a tone that makes you want to go, 

And crawl beneath the bed, 
That's the Ranger. 

If a voice says soft and gentle, 

"Halt a moment; who is there?" 

Then concludes "Come forward, brother;" 
In a tone of righteous prayer, 
That's the Preacher. 

Then if "Halt, who's there?" comes coldly, 
And "A friend" you have replied 

And you hear "I cannot pass you 
Till you've been identified," 
That's the Banker. 

But if "Halt" is low and pleasant, 

So at once you feel at ease, 
And you tell your name and then you hear: 

" Step this way if you please, " 
That's the Clerk. 

While if "Halt" should sound accusing, 

And enfold you in suspense, 
Then the voice goes on "What have you, sir, 

To say in your defense?" 
That's the Lawyer. 



29 



And should "Halt" come harsh and threat' ning 
Then in tones to make you cower: 

"Disobey me at your peril 

For I have you in me power," 
That's the Actor. 

If you're walking with a party, 

And the "Halt" sounds tired and vexed. 
And the guard advances one, then turns 

Around and calls out "Next," 
That's the Barber. 

But if "Halt" should be impressive, 

With a touch of kindness too, 
And if your reply is answered 

By "What may I do for you?" 
That's the Doctor. 

Those are samples of the challenges 

You'll hear most any day, 
While the aqueduct is guarded, 

By the men of V. C. A. 
Every sentry has a manner, 

And a style that's all his own; 
So I say they are the darndest bunch, 

The world has ever known. 





tti\\m 




0* **- 




30 



A BLESSING IN DISGUISE 

Oh there was an old soldier 

And he had a wooden leg, 
And I said to him one day 

As he complained about his peg: 



"You with the pedal adornment divorced, 
Tell me your tale of woe not; 

'Stead of a dark, gloomy tale of remorse, 
Yours should be one happy lot. 

"Standing, you get but one-half tired as I; 

Only one garter to slip; 
Double the service on socks that you buy; 

Only five toe-nails to clip. 

"Only one leg for rheumatical pain; 

Only one foot for the gout; 
Just one collection of corns to raise Cain; 

Only one shoe to wear out. 

"One set of toes to be trodden upon; 

One foot to wash and you're thru; 
Come not to me with a tale sad and wan 

I need more pity than you." 



31 



FORCE OF HABIT 

For near a month without a leave, 

Had Private William Brown 
Been on the job, and then he got 

A pass and went to town. 

When Private Brown returned to camp, 

He was a total wreck, 
And looked as tho a flock of bricks, 

Had struck him in the neck. 

He limped and had a damaged eye, 

One arm was in a sling; 
But when we questioned him, he said 

"I didn't drink a thing. 

'Twas all an awful accident, 

That broke me up this way; 
You see I had a nifty feed 

Down in a swell cafe. 

"The check was just one-thirty-five 

And gee, it was some mess, 
Then I got absent-minded, and 

Forgot myself, I guess. 

"For when I'd wrestled with the feed, 

Till I could hold no more, 
I gathered up the plates and tools 

And started for the door. 

"And there I stood a looking 'round 

To find the washing pail, 
When seven waiters jumped on me 

And dragged me off to jail. 

"It cost me seven bones and then 

They chased me out of town — 
And them's the facts: I didn't have a drink," 

Said Private Brown. 



32 




After dinner exercises — 
washing the mess-kits 



TOO MUCH FOR SHERMAN 

One night on Post Delirium 

A touch fell on my arm 
And as I'd heard no sound, of course 

I turned in great alarm, 
I took one look, then gave a yell 

And bolted from that post 
But stopped when said a voice: "Fear not; 

I'm only Sherman's ghost." 

So somewhat reassured, I paused 

And looked my caller o'er; 
All garbed in uniform of blue 

From stirring days of yore. 
"Yes, I am Sherman's ghost," he said 

"And I have come to see 
If things have changed since 'Sixty-one," 

Said Sherman's ghost to me. 

"And how" said I, "have you enjoyed 

Your visit to our sphere ? 
Our modern methods I am sure 

To you seem very queer; 
But tell me, sir, what modern change 

Impresses you the most; 
The guns, the subs or aeroplanes?" 

Said I to Sherman's ghost. 

"It's really most astonishing," 

Acknowledged Sherman's shade 

"It's very hard to comprehend 
The progress you have made; 



33 



It's changed since my boys hiked it 

From Atlanta to the sea, 
Yet things like that we must expect, " 

Said Sherman's ghost to me. 

"But one thing gets my goat," said he 
"And makes me sad and sick 

To see a husky soldier tote 
A dum-fool swagger stick; 

It makes me glad that I am dead 
And with the Hallowed Host 

It makes war worse than what I said — 
Farewell!" said Sherman's ghost. 





34 



YOU CAN TELL 

You can always tell a barber 

By the way he combs his hair; 

You can tell a taxi-driver 

When you hear him start to swear. 

You can always tell a baker 

When he speaks of coin as "dough," 
And a hundred others you can tell 

By little traits you know. 

You tell a plumber by his pipes, 
A cobbler's always "last," 

While doctors, lawyers, merchants 

You can pick them quick and fast. 

You can even tell a grafter 

By his a la modish touch; 
You can tell a danged Plattsburger — But 

You cannot tell him much. 



35 



THE SUPPLY TRUCK 

Oh the man who totes the Springfield, 

Is important as can be, 
And we couldn't do without him, 

But in stern necessity. 

And the officers and non-coms 

Have a job that's not a cinch, 

But we'd get along without them 
If it came down to a pinch. 

And each bugler, cook and rookie 
Has important things to do, 

Yet if they were taken from us 

We could somehow struggle thru. 

We could lose full half the outfit, 
Still we'd guard the aqueduct, 

Just as long as we kept with us 
Our old olive motor truck. 

Oh, it's thrilling and romantic 

To go gunning 'round for spies, 

But there's little thrill or romance 
Toting carloads of supplies. 

For it's up before the daybreak, 
Sweating under heavy loads, 

Then it's rumble, jar and clatter 
Mile on mile o'er rocky roads. 

To the last far-lying outpost 

With its precious load and then 

Turn about and race to quarters, 
Load and stagger out again. 

Oh it's great to be a soldier, 

With the honors it portends 

But its on the old supply truck 
That the army all depends. 



36 




The most cheering sight 

along the aqueduct — 

the supply truck 



A LINE FROM THE FRONT 

Just before the battle, sweetheart, I am writing this to 

you 
While I'm waiting for the summons to relieve Post 

Number Two. 

As I write, a yelp of anguish and a loud and profane 

term 
Tells me that a skeeter punctured some poor comrade's 

epiderm. 

Now I hear the cursing sentry with his steady muffled 

tread 
Slap and wallop and go crunching o'er the bodies of 

the dead. 

And I cannot help but wonder as I sit here in the dark, 
If you're not out with some slacker holding hands in 
Central Park. 

Such the lot of we poor warriors, while we battle for 

the right, 
Our fair maids are having parties with some bum who 

doesn't fight. 

Ah, the thought near drives me nutty and my heart 

is filled with grief 
And I gladly go on duty fighting skeeters for relief. 



37 



A HUNTING SONG 

Oh comrades of the aqueduct 

Come join the hunt with me, 

For there's a skeeter run amuck 
And out upon a spree. 

He dashes at me unaware 

And bites me in the back, 

Then scallyhoots into his lair 
And plans a new attack. 

Come chase him from his habitats 

Into the open fields, 
We'll poke him in the jaw and slats 

And kick him till he squeals. 

'Twill be a merry lark, my friends, 
We'll chase him far and near, 

Pursue him to the bitter end 
And bust his danged career. 




38 



THE POET WAS RIGHT 

One time when patroling at Post Number Eight 
At seven A.M. my relief was so late, 

That when I came in, there was no sign of mess, 
But Cooky said "I'll find you something, I guess." 

And tho, nearly starved, I was filled with delight 
For Cooky, I knew, soon would fix it all right. 

And then when it came I near fell in a swoon 
And had I felt stronger, I'd murdered that coon. 

The bread was a remnant of two nights before 
With butter that somone had dropped on the floor, 

The tea was so strong that it near made me weep 
I cracked a boiled egg and the chicken said "peep." 

And then I arose and a left-handed hook 
I quickly let fly on the jaw of the cook, 

And I know that the poet is right when he states 
That "Everything comes to the fellow who waites." 



39 



A TRAGEDY 

Miss Mary had a little lamb 

As doubtless you may know; 

One day it sauntered to the dam 
Which lies at Kensico.* 

The lambkin might have got away 

Quite safely with his lark, 
But he decided he would stay 

And see the place by dark. 

And there he made a grave mistake; 

For just inside the wood, 
That bounds this manufactured lake 

A nervous sentry stood. 

'Twas just 12:30 if the clock 

Was not again at fault, 
Whem lambkin got a sudden shock 

To hear a husky "Halt." 

But Mary's lambkin heeded not, 

Or else he didn't care 
He did not halt; then rang a shot 

Upon the midnight air. 

Now Mary wonders where can be 

Her darling little lamb; 
While sentries feast on chops in glee 

At Post Six near the dam. 

*We contend that in referring to a dam one should say 
it "lies" while other authorities insist a dam "stands," 
but for this work it has been decided that "dam lies" 
is right — Author's note. 



40 



EAR MARKS 

When a little lump of butter 
■'■ ; Seems rare as gold to you, 
And when milk and salt and sugar 
Look scarce and precious, too. 

When thoughtlessly you take a crust 
And hide it in your shirt, 

When skeeters jab you full of holes 
Yet you don't feel the hurt. 

When every little piece of cloth 
And paper, ropes and strings, 

You gather carefully and save 

Like they were priceless things. 

When you're polite and careful 

What you say and what you do, 

I know you've been a soldier, for 
I've been a soldier, too. 



4i 



SLUMBER SONG 

Oft' in the chilly night 

E'er slumber's chains have bound us, 
We rise to swear and fight 

The blasted 'skeeters 'round us. 

Full half the night is spent 

Engaged with this buzzing host; 

Then forth from our canvas tent 
We are kicked to relieve a post. 




42 




Taps 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A W0RL0 LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 
(724)779-2111 



